all my lives lead to you
by killerteddybear
Summary: he dreams of a train, claustrophobia and numbers on his arm that burn as fire. reincarnation!au


**A/N I wrote this last June. I don't own any of the characters, locations or other copyrighted material herein.**

**Warnings: violent content**

all my lives lead to you

Michael is not sure why the pepper pot he'd been struggling to reach for floats slowly, carefully into the air.

That night he dreams of (remembers?) a train, claustrophobia and numbers on his arm that burn as fire.

In the morning he remembers it and thinks it is a nightmare.

The man from the academy collects him that afternoon. His parents look at him with hatred when they think he cannot see (he always sees, even when his backed is turned).

He dreams of blind rage, gates buckling at his will. He wonders if he is going insane.

At the academy there is a mutant he swears he recognises. He is called James (Charles? he asked when they first met). James laughs slightly and introduces himself. When James slips and calls Michael Erik, neither of them comment.

Michael dreams of Herr Doktor shooting his mutti, knives slicing his skin. When he wakes he feels the cuts like ghosts and thinks it is strange how much he loved the mutti in his dreams.

He does not realise until weeks later that he dreams those first nights in German (he does not know German) and yet he has understood it perfectly.

He wishes, as he dreams of the doctor (Shaw, now) whispering lies while he is strapped to the examination table (this is for the best, kleine Erik).

He does not tell anyone of this. He knows (believes, so foolish) that they will lock him up (inject poison into his veins) call him insane (paralysing him just as in his memories-dreams) in whispered conversations and scribbled notes on clipboards.

His nights are filled with bloody revenge, a trail of bodies and a lack of answers, of satisfaction.

This carries on for weeks, then it is different, just a little.

Discovery, drowning himself to catch a submarine, rescue his childhood (so far gone, did he ever have one?)

He is rescued from death by a comrade in loneliness. Charles. In that moment, he loves him (he cannot admit that he never stops). And, _fuck_, he looks like James.

Michael thinks of James-so much like the Charles of his dreams-and thinks he might be a little bit in love with him.

He dreams of the road, finding those like them in strange places. He sees a blue girl, so very beautiful, too young for the eyes that have seen too much, a boy who will die soon (so long ago)-the adaptor who cannot adapt as well as they all had thought.

He fears what may happen soon in his nightly escape (his life-in-the-now is so lonely now, he cannot bear to be near the boy who is Charles but cannot remember him). He is rewarded with thwarted expectations, requited love and happy moments (not enough, never enough).

It crashes so soon (he is cynical but he had hoped _so much_), the feeling of sand beneath his fingers on a beach burnt with sun and rage, cradling his hope for salvation (he leaves, he will always leave you _not Charles please not Charles_)

He loses everything in his (Magneto's?) victory.

Michael begins to confuse himself with Erik-the life in dreams (nightmares now as Erik becomes so like Shaw he despises himself _can't change back, deserveitdeserveit_) seems more real than his life of training and his late night talks with Charles (_James_) that he has stopped attending.

The Charles of his dreams dies before he can say goodbye, slipping quietly into the good night (_pitiful_ thinks Magneto-Erik's heart snaps in pieces _don'tleavemeIcan'tbealoneagainPLEASE_).

His final dream in this strange other existence is terrifying (He no longer thinks of them a dreams. They are too real, he can ). He wakes up screaming for the first time since the phantom knives sliced open Erik's (_his_) skin. He can feel the white hot needles piercing his skin, mocking him in their metallic glory (they have taken his powers why_why_WHY) dying oh so slowly as his skin dissolved inch by inch.

His last thought is _forgive me, please_


End file.
